Surprises
by Chelles
Summary: Life needs some surprises, don't you think?
1. Catherine

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift to my wonderful friend GSR'er. I hope you have a fabulous day! I realize I'm a little early, but, this one will take a few days to post in its entirety. I hope you enjoy it.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Catherine_

I hate surprises. I have ever since I was a little girl. Fortunately, being a CSI has robbed me of my ability to be surprised. After the Bruce Eiger man-as-baby case, what's left to shock me? Besides, I'm the mother of a teenager. At this point, even melodrama seems _mellow_.

When Grissom basically shoved me into his position so he could go after Sara, it, thankfully, wasn't a surprise. I'd been his heir apparent for almost a decade, and his friend even longer. I saw the signs. The only surprise was how long it took him to decide to leave. After everything they'd been through together, he actually considered _not_ going with her? Please, Grissom. Like anyone thought you'd just let her walk away forever.

But, I digress.

So, after almost ten years of being Grissom's right hand, I took his job. I have to say, this supervisor gig is harder than he made it look. I'll give him credit for that. He must have been far better at this job than I ever realized, because it's a lot more stressful than he let on. There's always some _issue_. And, today's special issue is Hodges, who is screaming like a girl.

Okay, then. Detour to the Trace Lab.

Hodges is there, apparently recovering from screaming his head off. But, he isn't alone.

Grissom and Sara are standing with him, struggling not to laugh at his girly screams.

"Hi," I say, staring at them in shock.

Sara is beaming. "Hi, Catherine."

It's not that I'm not happy to see them – believe me, I'm thrilled – but, honestly, shock and surprise are my first identifiable emotions. I mean, not six months ago, Grissom had me packing up things he had forgotten to ship to Costa Rica. I sort of assumed they'd be there for awhile.

"Did you get sick of the jungle?" I ask.

Grissom smiles. "Aren't you happy to see us?"

"Yes, of course I am." I smile. "I've missed you."

"We've missed you, too," Sara says.

Grissom smiles. "When my wife said she missed our friends –"

He keeps talking, but I can't hear him over _my_ girly screams.

I hug them both at once. I love surprises.

**TBC…**


	2. Sara

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! If you reviewed the first chapter, I promise that review replies are forthcoming…unfortunately, right now, progress reports for my students have to come first. I do appreciate that you took the time to review!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Sara_

I love my husband. I really, really do. And, I get that he loves Paris. I love Paris, too. What I _don't_ love is sitting around playing housewife. I've held jobs since I was sixteen. I can't _not_ work. It makes me crazy.

The thing is, when you live in another country, you need a work visa to work. And, you have to find a company that's willing to sponsor you to get that visa. In Grissom's case, this wasn't a problem. Visiting professors don't have any issues getting work visas. Their wives, on the other hand, don't have it so easy.

Grissom knew I was bored. The first month or so was great. I got to see the sights, eat amazing French foods, and even learn a little French. But, after awhile, all the novelty wore off, and …

Well, when Ecklie called looking for help, I hesitate to say I _jumped_ at the chance, but I was pretty excited to rejoin my old team.

So, Griss and I are back where we started a hundred years ago – living in separate cities, keeping in touch as best we can. Granted, we put a lot more into it now than we did when he was in Las Vegas and I was in San Francisco. We're married now. There's a lot more at stake.

Emails have been replaced by phone calls. Chance visits during seminars and conferences have been replaced by scheduled trips at least twice a month. Since I'm the one with the "flexible" schedule, I'm the one who's constantly making nine hour flights to Paris.

And, let me tell you, the jet lag is a killer.

Jet lag is the only explanation for the fact that I can barely stay awake during Catherine's staff meeting. I know she can see me nodding off, but she's kind enough not to call me on the carpet in front of everyone. Thank goodness for Greg – he keeps poking me awake.

"What's up with you?" Greg asks after Catherine dismisses us.

"Jet lag," I reply with a jaw-splitting yawn. "You know what? I'm telling Grissom he needs to start flying here. This is killing me."

Greg frowns. "Sara, you haven't been to Paris in two weeks."

Now I'm frowning. "Two weeks?" It's never taken me that long to bounce back before. I shake my head. "I must be getting old."

"Just as long as you're not getting sick," Greg says. "I am so not working this triple alone."

"I'm not sick, I promise. Just tired."

"Well … get some sleep."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks for the advice."

Greg grins at my sarcasm. "Anytime."

* * *

It's still bothering me when I get home that morning. Greg took pity on me and agreed to stay late so I could go home on time. Normally, I'd protest being babied, but, honestly, I can barely stay awake to drive myself home.

"I'm never this tired," I mumble as I stretch out on my bed. "Something isn't right."

Four hours later, I'm jolted awake. Somehow, in my sleep, I realized that jet lag isn't the only explanation for my lethargy.

My insides are churning. It can't be … Can it?

"Oh, God," I exclaim, sitting straight up in bed. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God."

I fumble across my nightstand for my cell phone, and press through the menus to my calendar feature.

"Oh, God, oh, God …"

I need to go to a drug store.

* * *

An hour later, I'm staring at a stick bearing a plus sign in shock.

"Oh, God," I whisper. "I'm going to be a mother."

I have never been so surprised.


	3. Grissom

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! One more surprise to go after this one…

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Grissom_

I'm walking out of my last class of the afternoon when I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I grab it and smile to see Sara's name on the display. I'm about to answer it when I realize that the number under her name isn't her Las Vegas number. It's her Paris number.

"Sara?" I ask rather than saying hello.

"Bonjour," she replies.

"Honey, why are you in Paris?"

"Because I wanted to see you."

"Sara, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she says. "Are you on your way home?"

"I'm still at the Sorbonne. I'll be home in about thirty minutes."

"Okay. I'll be here."

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

I sigh. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replies. "Calm down. Can't a wife want to visit her husband?"

I smile, and realize that I need to stop looking this gift horse in the mouth, as it were. "Okay. I'm sorry. You're right. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"Well, I'm just full of surprises," she replies. "I'll see you when you get home."

"Okay." I'm about to hang up when I hear her calling my name. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

The familiar feeling of warmth that comes with hearing those words spreads through me. "I love you, too."

* * *

When I get home, Sara's waiting for me. She's sitting in the living room watching a French soap opera. For someone who was never all that into television, she got hooked on those soap operas within days of our move to Paris. She swears they've helped her learn French – and, after listening to her speak it, I have to agree.

"Hi," I say.

Her face lights up with a smile, and she rushes into my arms. "Hi," she replies, leaning up to kiss me.

I prolong the kiss and hold her tightly. "I can't believe you're here."

She giggles. "I wanted to surprise you."

I pull her even closer. "Well, you did."

Something shifts in her eyes – nervousness, maybe? – and she bites her lip. "I have something to tell you," she says.

"Something good or bad?"

"Good," she says without hesitation. "At least … I think it's good. I think you will, too."

"Okay. Tell me."

She readjusts her arms around my neck, clinging to me just a bit tighter. She's smiling at she speaks. "Gil … we're going to be parents."

Thank God she's holding on to me so tightly. I'm pretty sure I need her to hold me up. "We're … what?"

"We're having a baby," she says. "I'm pregnant."

"Sara …" Dazed. That's the only way to describe how I feel. "I can't believe it."

"I know," she says, still holding her smile. "It took me a little while to believe, too."

"Parents." And, as quickly as the dazed feeling came, it was gone. Happy. That's the only emotion I can feel. So, so happy. "Sara …"

"Gil," she mocks playfully.

I press my lips against hers. "I love you," I whisper when I break the kiss. "I love you so, so much."

She giggles. "Good news, then?"

"Yes," I sigh. "_Very_ good news." I loosen my grip on her enough to touch her flat abdomen. "I love you, too, my little one."

Sara's eyes fill with tears. "She knows. She loves you, too."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can't help but tease her. "_She_? Says who?"

"Says her mother."

I chuckle. If she wants a girl, that's fine with me.


	4. Catherine again

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading this little bit of fluff. I hope you've enjoyed the journey.

Special thanks to Aussieforgood, for the inspiration to make this more than one chapter.

And, a very, very happy birthday to GSR'er. I hope you enjoyed it!

And, now, please enjoy one final surprise…

* * *

_Catherine, again_

This has been the longest night of my life. In fact, it's been such a long night that it's actually the next afternoon.

I'm walking down the hall, massaging my neck and thinking that maybe it's time for a full body massage, when I hear excited voices from the break room. I roll my eyes. If I had a dollar for every time I've kicked Archie, Greg and Greg's new Wii out of there, I wouldn't ever need to work again.

Fine. Detour to the break room, then I'm going home and booking my massage.

I stop short in the doorway. Archie and Greg are there, along with Nick, Wendy, Henry, Hodges, Mandy and Sara. But, sitting next to Sara, holding her hand, is Grissom.

"Well, well," I say, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Looks like someone decided it was time to make the transatlantic flight himself, instead of forcing his wife into a constant state of jet lag."

Grissom smiled tolerantly. "Hello, Catherine. It's nice to see you, too."

He stands to hug me, which, I have to admit, is rather sweet. Usually, I'm the one initiating the hugs.

"So, what's the occasion?" I ask once Grissom has sat down again. I sit down across the table from him and Sara.

Grissom looks at Sara, who smiles back. He winks and nods. She turns to me with a beaming smile.

"Well," she says, "it's mostly my fault."

"I don't know about that," Grissom interrupts.

Sara giggles. "Not where I was going with it, buddy."

Grissom actually _blushes_. My eyes are darting back and forth between them, and I suddenly know what Sara's about to say. I bite my tongue, not wanting to ruin her moment or to spoil the surprise for the others.

"It's my fault, because I'm the one who insisted that our baby have both her parents living on the same continent."

The uproar is intense. I'm laughing and crying as I hug first Grissom and then Sara.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," I whisper to Sara.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"You did," I assure her.

She grins. "Good. Life needs some surprises, don't you think?"

I smile. "Yeah," I agree, "it does."


End file.
